


Village People

by Luka



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:24:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Bodie and Doyle spend a rather bemusing week in the country.





	Village People

**Author's Note:**

> The story is a series of linked drabbles. And it's dedicated to byslantedlight and londonronnie, who were both been very patient waiting for this fic to see the light of day! And it's a tribute to Rhiannon for all the fun I've had reading her wonderful Larton stories. I hope she won't mind me playing in her sandpit…

“Fucking sheep shaggers,” said Doyle, snatching the holdalls from the Capri with unnecessary violence.

Bodie tutted, relieving Doyle of the bags. “Language, Raymond.”

“Not as bad as that git in his poncey hunting outfit…”

“I understand they call them pinks.”

“Thought they were flowers.”

“Yeah, well, come inside, petal, before you wilt.”

“Bodie, don’t fuss. . .”

“You might be OK, superman, but I need food!”

“Tell me something new.”

Bodie let Doyle's chuntering wash over him as he stowed the bags in the hallway. At this rate it was going to be a long week for both of them.

*~*~*~

His partner still looked pale from a hospital stay. Doyle hadn't appreciated being told that falling down four flights of stairs in pursuit of a suspect wasn't in the training manual. It was a miracle nothing was broken.

The cottage in rural Gloucestershire came courtesy of Susan's Aunty Cecily. There was nothing twee and chintzy about it. Behind the stone exterior, it was tastefully decorated in pastel colours and polished wood. 

If Bodie had his way, they'd have a week of rest, recuperation and…

"Bodie! Hurry up and we can go and find some grub."

Bodie sighed long-sufferingly and obeyed.

*~*~*~

It wasn’t a chocolate-box village beloved of tourists, but rather a backwater place, complete with pig farm and an apology for a river, which niffed a bit. The Brewer’s Arms pub looked like it had been there since time immemorial–as did the clientele.

Doyle took a sip of his pint and pulled a face. “Warmer than that cuppa we had on the way down.”

“The locals don’t come here for the beer.” 

“So what do they come for?”

Bodie nodded towards the bar where a statuesque barmaid was chatting to a group of transfixed regulars.

“Phwoar, she’s stacked!” they chorused. 

*~*~*~

“Bloody hell, that Yorkie’s psychopathic. Nearly had me by the seat of me bloody pants!” said Doyle, inspecting his jeans ruefully, as they stood outside the pub, inhaling the evening air which had a hint of manure in it.

Bodie belched in response.

“Bodie!”

“Definitely tasted better on the way down!”

They started scrummaging, narrowly avoided some woebegone tubs of plants and then dodged a shooting-brake driven by a scruffy-looking chap who leaned out of the window and shouted something unintelligible at them. It sounded like something to do with horses.

“Locals are bonkers. Too much bloody inbreeding,” commented Doyle. 

*~*~*~

“Hey, what you looking at?” Doyle looked around when he realised his partner wasn't by his side. He wandered over and rested his chin on Bodie's shoulder.

“Reckon the excitement’s going to be killing this week.”

“How come?”

Bodie pointed to the parish noticeboard. Pride of place had been given over to a poster, which looked as if it had been produced on a John Bull printing set, advertising a night of entertainment at the village hall. 

"I think I might be busy that night."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Stashed away in Cowley's bottom drawer with his finest Malt."

*~*~*~

"Blimey, you could get lost in that…" Doyle surveyed the huge bed, topped with a fluffy duvet, that dominated the cottage's sole bedroom.

"I'll send in the Marines if you do, Goldilocks." Bodie's hands sketched a brief touch around Doyle's waist.

"All mouth and trousers, you…"

"I could lose the trousers…"

Doyle rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Bedtime."

"Are we going to…? I mean, I could sleep on the sofa if you don't…"

"Shut up, Bodie."

Bodie endeavoured to look long-suffering, parroting Doyle's order. Then, as his partner stripped off his clothes and snuggled beneath the duvet, he followed suit.

*~*~*~

"They're definitely weird around here. Why do they keep grinning at us?"

"Just friendly," hazarded Bodie, steering them towards the village shop for urgent supplies.

"That kid on the school bus who kept waving was the dead spit of you. Are you sure you haven't been here before?"

Bodie looked affronted. "Certainly not."

"So what are we going to do today? No, not that…" Doyle sighed as Bodie waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"We could see the sights." Bodie handed Doyle a leaflet with a stately home on the front.

"Spare me the stately piles."

"Sounds like something Cowley suffers from."

*~*~*~

"Why was that woman giving you all that grief?" Doyle leaned on the roof of the car and regarded his partner beadily.

Bodie shrugged. "Search me. She kept burbling about Dublin and horses and some riding school. And she would insist on calling me Will. I kept telling her she'd mistaken me for someone else, but she wouldn't listen."

"Told you, too much in-breeding."

"She was taking an uncommon interest in you, mate, and muttering about these Americans you should meet."

"Are you sure she isn't in Cowley's pay?"

"She'd certainly give the old bugger a run for his money."

*~*~*~

Bodie cleared his plate and smiled beatifically. "I'm gonna have to marry you, Doyle, and keep you barefoot, pregnant and tied to the stove."

Doyle rolled his eyes. "In your dreams, Porky!"

"I'm wounded to the core. The Cow'd approve–it'd save him money if we lived together."

Doyle was silent for a moment. "You serious?"

Bodie's eyes were unwavering. "Deadly."

"You sure it's not just a holiday romance?"

Bodie rolled his eyes in response.

"Thought not. Go on, then… About bloody time you proposed to me. And I shall expect a ring. And…"

Bodie kissed him to shut him up.


End file.
